


Take the Flame

by Accuni



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Unicron Spoilers, canon compliant character death, ll25 spoilers, loss of a loved one, spark-break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 21:22:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17691308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accuni/pseuds/Accuni
Summary: Megatron wasn't there when Optimus sacrificed himself, but he felt it.//The answer to an idea of one partner feeling the moment their bonded dies.Edit:I went back and wrote the part surrounding their bonding, and everything that entailed





	Take the Flame

**Author's Note:**

> A quick, sad idea I wrote out over the course of the day. I've had the topic of "what if the Megatron in the universe where he lives feels the moment that Optimus is taken in Unicron?" on my list of things to write since the end of the continuity. Reading some other works sort of inspired me to kick myself to actually write it.
> 
> The time frame in this is assuming the Functionist Primus stuff happened very briefly before Unicron, so that when the Lost Light crew set off on their journey afterward, all of that began on that side of the universe. A bit of a stretch, but I do a lot to make myself sad ahaha.

He still remembered the day they bonded. 

It was such a novelty moment, amidst the chaos after the near miss of losing their home. 

Maybe it was the threat of losing again, not instigated by themselves for once. Or maybe it was the build up of years practically being in each other’s plating anyway.

Megatron would never forget the moment they became one, and all the weariness seemed to ease from his partner’s frame. He’d thought Optimus had never looked more beautiful than at that time, both of them standing in that dingy holding cell, revelling in the inner warmth of a newly forged bond. An undisclosed bond. 

Two processors linked, two sparks becoming one.

The weight of the war, the past, had been a bit more bearable then. 

 

* * *

 

They hadn’t had any contact with Cybertron, not even after the alternate universe debacle. Surely half the galaxy had heard about it by now, but there was nothing. And the Lost Light was a free vessel from here on out, just mech on their own in infinite space once again.

There had been so much chaos, Megatron hadn’t had time to even think about trying to communicate with Cybertron until they’d figured out how to manipulate the quantum engines. 

Even once they’d settled back in to routine, Megatron was occupied. Being reinstated as co-captain was still a job, and there was still much work to be done about those who felt he didn’t belong there. 

Sometimes still, he sympathized with them.

But then he’d remember how he ended up here in the first place. That original  _ second chance _ . He owed his life to that mech. 

His spark belonged to him.

 

And Megatron was reminded of it in the worst way.

Counting the endless stars, mapping out their next destination among his crew. Megatron assumed someone had reattempted his execution, a heavy blaster shot through the chassis. 

But when he’d took his hand away from his chest, nothing but that now-familiar red, the symbol of this new life.

“Megatron?”

And he looked into the bright blue optics of his co-captain across the table of star maps, realizing they were waiting on an answer to a question he didn’t even seem to have registered. Rodimus’ face showed nothing but instant worry- a fairly new look to be directed towards Megatron in any situation. 

He couldn’t speak, his vocalizer felt like it’d been ripped from his intake out. His optics burned like stoking long-forgotten coals.

Megatron could barely move his limbs to brace against the table, his plating visibly shaking. 

It felt nothing like the caustic burn of the anti-matter or the razor-sharp pricks of changing a frame. 

No, it was agonizingly slow and searing.  _ Pulling. _

 

“Sir…” a white hand gripped his pauldron. Megatron had the strength to turn his helm to meet the concerned face of his second. 

Magnus didn’t say anything else, he knew better. Megatron didn’t. His panic was rising every second, no longer accustomed to his insides feeling like they were being shredded and his live circuitry melting in his frame. 

It was like no other sensation in the world and Megatron found himself surprised that he was  _ scared _ . 

He didn’t even register Magnus swiftly ushering him from the room, Rodimus in tow. 

Walking out of the meeting room was a chore. Magnus helped him sit down on a stool in an adjacent empty office.

 

“Do you need to see Ratchet?” Magnus didn’t even bother with titles. Megatron guessed he probably looked even worse than he felt.  _ Since when had he been so open to expression? _

Megatron waved away Magnus’ worried servos. Rodimus was sitting next to him now, not touching.

 

“I-I don’t know.” And he hated to admit it. He  _ didn’t know _ what was happening. His frame was a mess, but he’d reluctantly gotten a check up after their last ordeal, like everyone. This was nothing he’d ever experienced, even over the years and years of war. He’d been shot millions of times, plating torn and eviscerated, but the pain now… it almost felt like it was programmed into him, in his every being. Less palpable, more incorporated into his being.

 

“Let’s go, it doesn’t look good at all, Megs…” Rodimus was reaching to help him now.

“Don’t, I ca-” Megatron didn’t get the rest out, he lurched forward, biting back a harsh cough. A choke, still the feeling of fire in his chassis, and when he pulled his shaking servo from his mouth, there was a sheen of energon coating it. Megatron’s optics cycled wider. Maybe he really was sick, he wasn’t that old though-

“Okay, I’m calling Ratchet right now!” Rodimus was fumbling for his comm, and Magnus was fishing out a cloth for Megatron. He was barely registering the voices. The time passing. Suddenly it was all a whirlwind.

 

It felt like no time at all before the office door opened, Megatron not even realizing when someone was gripping his wrist, shaking his shoulder. Only one mech on the ship with the nerves to do that.

“Megatron, I need you to tell me where the problem is. Where are you hurting?” Ratchet was kneeling in front of him now. His stern face was hiding anything he felt about the situation, as always. Megatron found his processor unable to completely focus on the medic.

Where was he hurting? Everywhere. Nowhere. Indiscernible.

His body, his processor his-

_ His spark. _

And the realization hit harder than any cannon blast to the frame.

 

The noise he let out must have been closer to a wheeze or a sob than it felt, because Ratchet stopped trying to fumble for his medical ports, and Rodimus went completely still next to him. Megatron  _ didn’t _ cry, he  _ wasn’t _ , but the sudden surge of pure emotion was laying siege on his processor. Everything component seemed to be rattling in his helm, every instance of memories and feelings flashing over and over. 

Ratchet was laying a hand on Megatron’s thigh, the touch seeming far away. He knew. Of course a medic would catch on to what was happening.

_ His spark was splitting _ . Something bad was going down and he wasn’t there for it. 

Megatron felt as if he’d be the first to go, had planned on it, actually- considering the implications of the trial. He assumed his spark would be the first to extinguish, and accepted that it would just have to be another one of his many burdens on Optimus’ life.

Another excruciating surge gripped his chassis and he nearly keened, back arching and going limp in the same instant. Slumped over his knees, Megatron brought his servo back to his chest, as if he’d be able to hold on to the fleeting pieces.

 

“Ratchet, what’s happening? Is it a disease?” Rodimus dared to ask, face frantic as he looked to Ratchet. After everything they’d been through, all the confrontations, he was  _ worried _ .

 

Ratchet slowly shook his head. 

“No, he’s- Megatron, do you know what’s going on?”

 

It took a moment for Megatron to focus and find his vocals. Thank the gods for Ratchet’s discretion. 

“Y-yes but… I don’t know  _ what _ is going on.” he tried to even out his venting. “I need to be there…”

 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, Megatron.” Ratchet was patting his thigh soothingly. He didn’t seem bothered yet by the realization of the situation. “I can give you suppressants, would that help th-”

Megatron jerked his head up. “NO.” and when he noticed the other mech in the room flinch, he retreated to himself again.

“No, I don’t need it.” a dismissing wave of a servo. “A-apologies, Ratchet.”

 

Megatron could handle the physical pain, any pain. He decided that now, he didn’t want this dulled. He wanted to hang on to every last feeling of his counterpart, and the pain was all that was left to ground him. 

He felt...unraveled. Pieces of himself being torn away and crumbling to dust. It was rapid, yet time never felt so slow and dragging. Megatron only focused on the feeling in his chest, blocking out all external stimulus. He needed...he needed to be close now. To zero in on those last touches before he was alone. A last warm caress in his chest, filling his late life with a sense of hope. They’d barely been together before they needed to part again. 

Losing a part of his spark, and Megatron never felt so heavy in his functioning. He ached all over and his plating spasmodically shifted with every shot of pain.

 

Ratchet had checked that he was stable, and quietly shuffled the other two across the room. Their conversation was a faint whisper in Megatron’s perception.

Time dragged on, and Megatron couldn’t do anything but sit there and  _ feel _ .

 

He thought about how small the good moments were between him and Optimus, but didn’t let himself fall into regret of wasted time, years. They both new nothing would change that, that the future was all they had left to redeem. 

Still, he wished they’d been able to spend some time together without the looming threat of battle or trying to rebuild their world. 

Megatron wished he could  _ be there _ because, damn it hurt so bad! Being far away in the universe had been hard, but he’d gotten used to the feeling of no contact. Now, however, Megatron felt he could be next to the mech and still need to be closer.

He was sure Optimus wasn’t suffering, he was probably being noble. It put a weak smile on his face, thinking about his bonded going out with a fitting end. Optimus never failed to be the hero they needed. Truly the other side of the coin.  _ And Megatron loved him. _

He wondered if Optimus was thinking of him in those last moments as well, and found that he was content either way.

 

Lost in the sensations, it seemed to be over in an instant. All too quickly, Megatron immediately felt that emptiness. His frame was hollow and numb, and he shifted back to lean against the wall, unfocused optics forward. The deep pain was still there but Megatron felt like every wire and line in his body was disconnected. Limbs were weak, plating now clamped down like it was suffocating him. Or trying to hold on.

All that remained was a numb processor and an empty spark, floating in the void. It wasn’t unlike the clinical death they would have sentenced him.

And he wasn’t sure what hurt worse, the loss or not knowing what had transpired- what he  _ could have done _ \-  _ what they could have done together. _

Megatron had a whole crew, a ship of mech that he cared about, but right then he never felt so completely alone in the universe.

He let a heavy sob wrack his frame, uncaring.

 

* * *

The Lost Light hadn’t heard about the events on Cybertron until some time later, when Prowl had gotten into contact with Ultra Magnus to discuss the whereabouts of their journey.

He’d mentioned it almost matter-of-factly, like it hadn’t been the near end all be all of their world.

Megatron let his temper fly, as it had been frequently. 

How could they not think it important to talk about  _ Unicron _ ?

 

“It was  _ him _ , Megatron.” Prowl interrupted the tirade, his ruffled plating settling down on his frame. “Prime sacrificed himself to stop Unicron, with many others along the way.” He wasn’t sure mentioning his former second and third in command was wise at the moment. A full debriefing would be better when the conversation wasn’t projected on the bridge of a ship.

Megatron stopped and stared, spark jumping in his chest. He never doubted Optimus would find the right thing to do. He only wished he’d been part of that fight, that journey, as well. It nagged at his processor every cycle, even if he knew he could do nothing about it.

 

Prowl was still talking. “Arcee said he went to the heart of Unicron, to the  _ infraspace _ of the singularity. From there, no one knows what happened, other than the monster collapsing in on itself.” 

Prowl looked away for a moment, breathing, and then turned back. “Of course, there’s nothing left of those taken by Unicron. Windblade will be organizing and holding proper funerals in due time.”

 

And that was fine. Optimus being taken by the infinite stretch of space was a burial ground fitting for a mech so impactful as himself. 

Megatron’s chassis felt warm for the first time in months. He felt at ease with the fate of his bonded for once, that all the tension and frustration of the unknown was slowly melting away. His spark had the itching feeling of rekindling.

Optimus had gone out as he lived every day of his life, trying to help mecha for the greater good; far more heroic than Megatron felt he could have achieved himself. He fulfilled his purpose, and Megatron never felt more content with the fact. And he knew he loved the right mech.

He caught himself grinning at the floor, a hand on his chin.

Prowl was back to talking with Magnus now, so Rodimus looked over at his co-captain.  Not caring about boundaries and subtly placing a hand on Megatron’s arm, squeezing. 

“He did it, Megs...” was spoken with a sad sort of laugh.

Megatron looked forward, optics heating with a melancholy expression.

“He did.”

**Author's Note:**

> Quick fic, I hope you enjoyed it! The end was kind of corny, but eh.  
> And I apologize but I love writing angst and/or sadness, as you can tell.
> 
> Ah and if it wasn’t clear, In my mind, I kind of set up that they bonded after the events of Dark Cybertron. 
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/baddigital)


End file.
